At Moonrise And Onwards
I thought you a fire
On Heron-Plantation Hill,
Dealing out mischief the most dire
To the chattels of men of hire
There in their vill.
But by and by
You turned a yellow-green,
Like a large glow-worm in the sky;
And then I could descry
Your mood and mien.
How well I know
Your furtive feminine shape!
As if reluctantly you show
You nude of cloud, and but by favour throw
Aside its drape . . .
-How many a year
Have you kept pace with me,
Wan Woman of the waste up there,
Behind a hedge, or the bare
Bough of a tree!
No novelty are you,
O Lady of all my time,
Veering unbid into my view
Whether I near Death's mew,
Or Life's top cyme!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Related quotes
Shape In A Drape
There's a guy going round the town
You got to check what he is puttin' down
Just one look you know the story is great
He's the guy the chicks love
And the cats can't hate
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And you can dig that he is stookin'
Now some say he's a clipster and a tailor's toad
And he could hype a miserman for all his gold
Some say he's a hipster and some say nix
But everyone's solid when he gets his kicks
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And he is sure alive and kickin'
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(He's A) Shape In A Drape
(words and music by Joe Jackson)
There's a guy going round the town
You got to check what he is puttin' down
Just one look you know the story is great
He's the guy the chicks love
And the cats can't hate
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And you can dig that he is stookin'
Now some say he's a clipster and a tailor's toad
And he could hype a miserman for all his gold
Some say he's a hipster and some say nix
But everyone's solid when he gets his kicks
He's a shape in a drape
A shape in a drape
He's a shape in a drape
And he is sure alive and kickin'
(C) 1988 by Pokazuka Ltd./Tusken Music (ASCAP)
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Acorn
An acorn swung
On an oak-tree bough;
So long it had hung,
It would fain fall now
To the kindly earth,
That its germ within
Might burst into birth,
And its life begin.
And the autumn came
With its burning hand,
And each leaf grew a flame,
And each bough a brand.
And a worm came up
And began to eat
Though the hard, dry cup
To the acorn sweet.
And the acorn thought,
“I shall soon see now
The life I have sought,
When I fall from the bough;
For the worm gnaws through
Each tendon slight,
That about me grew,
And bound me tight.”
And with dying day
Came the zephyr’s sound;
And the acorn lay
Next morn on the ground;
But its germ was gone
By the worm’s sharp teeth;
And the ground it had won
Was its grave in death.
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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The Laily Worm and the Mackerel of the Sea
"I was bat seven year alld
Fan my mider she did dee,
My father marr{.e}d the ae warst woman
The wardle did ever see.
"For she has made me the lailly worm
That lays att the fitt of the tree,
An o my sister Meassry
The machrel of the sea.
"An every Saterday att noon
The machrl comes to me,
An she takes my layl{.e} head,
An lays it on her knee,
An keames it we a silver kemm,
An washes it in the sea.
"Seven knights ha I slain
Sane I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight an ye sud be."
"Sing on your song, ye laily worm,
That ye sung to me;"
"I never sung that song
But fatt I wad sing to ye.
"I was but seven year aull
Fan my mider she did dee,
My father marr{.e}d the a warst woman
The wardle did ever see.
"She changed me to the layely worm
That layes att the fitt of the tree,
An my sister Messry
To the makrell of the sea.
"And every Saterday att noon
The machrell comes to me,
An she takes my layly head,
An layes it on her knee,
An kames it weth a siller kame,
An washes it in the sea.
"Seven knights ha I slain
San I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight ye sud be."
He sent for his lady
As fast as sen cod he:
"Far is my son,
That ye sent fra me,
And my daughter,
Lady Messry?"
"Yer son is att our king's court,
Sarving for meatt an fee,
And yer daughter is att our quin's court,
A mary suit an free."
"Ye lee, ye ill woman,
Sa loud as I hear ye lea,
For my son is the layelly worm
That lays at the fitt of the tree,
An my daughter Messry
The machrell of the sea."
She has tain a silver wan
An gine him stroks three,
And he started up the bravest knight
Your eyes did ever see.
She has tane a small horn
An loud an shill blue she,
An a' the fish came her tell but the proud machrell,
An she stood by the sea:
"Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape,
And ye's never mare shape me."
He has sent to the wood
For hathorn an fun,
An he has tane that gay lady,
An ther he did her burne.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Before The Fair
'Lost,' 'lost,' the beeves and the bullocks,
The cattle men sell and buy,
Crowded upon the fair green,
Low to the lightless sky.
'Live,' 'live,' and 'Here,' 'here,' the blackbird
From the top of the bare ash-tree,
Over the acres whistles
With beak of yellow blee.
And climbing, turning, and climbing
His little stair of sound,
'Content,' 'content,' from the low hedge
The redbreast sings in a round.
And I who hear that hedge-song
Will fare with all the rest,
With thoughts of lust and labour,
And bargain in my breast.
The bare hedge bright with rain-drops
That have not fallen down,
The golden-crowded whin-bush
Nor know these things my own!
poem by Padraic Colum
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The Bare Facts.
.
The bride was totally undressed
The groom too had thought it best
To be nude on his wedding day.
The bride carried a small bouquet,
The best Man wore a beaming smile.
The bridesmaids too were in the nude.
Nude weddings have a certain style.
A very modern attitude.
The vicar too correctly dressed.
He wore a large pectoral cross.
We were all suitably impressed,
he had permission from his boss.
No need to buy a wedding dress
nor yet to hire a morning suit.
So the wedding cost much less.
Their economies had borne fruit.
They could afford a honeymoon
Though where they chose they would not say.
Bar that it cost a small fortune.
The savings they had made would pay.
The first wedding I have been to
Where nobody was overdressed.
and I have been to quite few.
I rate this as one of the best..
To prudes all nudity is rude
and so they chose to stay away.
Perhaps because they understood
their presence there would spoil the day.
Forgive me for this platitude.
They are entitled to their view.
I have a different attitude.
I was content to be bare too.
I wonder what the prudes conceal
Behind their vaunted piety.
What is it that they daren’t reveal.
Some hidden impropriety?
I do not think that being bare.
Is something that one should not do
I did not find it hard to bear
when everyone was naked too.
Each to his own I must suppose.
Whatever makes you comfortable.
Though usually I do wear clothes.
Sometimes nudity’s suitable.
Wednesday,17 March 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Among All Lovely Things My Love Had Been
AMONG all lovely things my Love had been;
Had noted well the stars, all flowers that grew
About her home; but she had never seen
A glow-worm, never one, and this I knew.
While riding near her home one stormy night
A single glow-worm did I chance to espy;
I gave a fervent welcome to the sight,
And from my horse I leapt; great joy had I.
Upon a leaf the glow-worm did I lay,
To bear it with me through the stormy night:
And, as before, it shone without dismay;
Albeit putting forth a fainter light.
When to the dwelling of my Love I came,
I went into the orchard quietly;
And left the glow-worm, blessing it by name,
Laid safely by itself, beneath a tree.
The whole next day, I hoped, and hoped with fear;
At night the glow-worm shone beneath the tree;
I led my Lucy to the spot, 'Look here,'
Oh! joy it was for her, and joy for me!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Dead of the Day
The palo verde bugs screeching
In some unseen green tree
Near a dry wash
The heat simmers the air at 112 degrees
Sand hovers in a man's shoes
And his death looms like the little
Green worm crawling up his bare leg
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Sonnet: Woman
Woman, thy beauty lies not in thine shape,
Nor in the color of thy skin but heart!
If only thou practiced a tongue-tied art,
And modesty with neck with a high drape!
Woman, vie not another feminine,
For jealousy is inborn in thine eyes;
Be not wayward or play the game of dice,
For thou inebriate more than old wine.
Be honest and obey thine husband’s word;
He needs thee in mind/ body and spirit;
Thy patience and love supreme are unheard;
Let not your mind contract a bad habit.
O woman of virtues, thou art the best;
Be thou firm even if death be your test!
poem by John Celes
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Guns For Hire (live 1983)
(A. Young M. Young B. Johnson)
The word is out that I'm about
And I've come gunnin' for you
I'm a real entertainer a mischief maker
A lover of no fixed abode
Ooh quick draw on the floor
No law give you more
Sweet talkin' lover of sin
You want what you get
You get what you want
Look out woman
I got gun's for hire
Shoot you with desire
The gun's for hire
Shoot you with desire
I'm a wanted poster a needed man
Wanted right across the land
I'm a smooth operator a big dictator
Gonna mark you with my brand
My gun's for hire
Shoot you with desire
Got gun's for hire
Shoot you with desire
Quick draw
On the floor
Big shot
Stick em' up
Hot to trot big shot take the lot
Never get the drop on me
I'm a real entertainer mischief maker
Love in seven languages
My gun's for hire
Shoot you with desire
This gun's for hire
I shoot you with desire
My gun's for hire
Shoot you with desire
Got gun's for hire
Shoot you with desire
What you got
Big shot
You can't get
You can't get the drop
On me
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Oats
I saw a fair youth, with a brow broad and white,
And an eye that was beaming with intellect's light:
And his face seemed to glow with the wealth of his mind;
And I said, 'He will grace and ennoble mankind:
He is Nature's own king.'
We met yet again. I saw the youth stand
With a bowl that was flowing and red in his hand;
And he filled it again, and again did he quaff,
And his friends gathered round him, and said with a laugh,
'He is sowing his oats.'
Ah! his eye was too bright, and his cheek was too red,
And I gazed on the youth with a feeling of dread;
And again as he laughingly lifted the bowl,
I turned from the scene with a shuddering soul:
It was terrible seed!
We met but once more. I found in the street
A corpse half-enveloped in mud and in sleet:
A foul, bloated thing; but I saw in the face
A something that told of its boyhood's grace:
He had reaped the dire crop.
O youths who are sowing wild oats! do you know
That the terrible seed you are planting will grow?
Have you thought how your God will require some day
An account of the life you are throwing away?
Have you thought, O rash youth?
It will soon be too late, there is no time to waste;
Then throw down the cup! do not touch, do not taste!
It is filled with destruction and sorrow and pain:
Throw it down! throw it down! do not lift it again:
It will soon be too late!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Aurobindo 149 Savitri Book 10
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Ten: The Book of the Double Twilight
Canto Three - The Debate of Love and Death
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'Even so men cheat the Truth with splendid thoughts.
Thus wilt thou hire the glorious charlatan, Mind,
To weave from his Ideal's gossamer air
A fine raiment for thy body's nude desires
And thy heart's clutching greedy passion clothe?
Daub not the web of life with magic hues: '
A charlatan even in Savitri's era? unbelievable
O'Death, had in mind this our kind even then?
'Thy words are large murmurs in a mystic dream.
For how in the soiled heart of man could dwell
The immaculate grandeur of thy dream-built God, '
'O human face, put off mind-painted masks: '
'Accept thy futile birth, thy narrow life.
For truth is bare like stone and hard like death;
Bare in the bareness, hard with truth's hardness live.'
'But Savitri replied to the dire God: '
'Yes, my humanity is a mask of God:
He dwells in me, the mover of my acts,
Turning the great wheel of his cosmic work.'
'I am the thinking instrument of his power,
I incarnate Wisdom in an earthly breast,
I am his conquering and unslayable will.
The formless Spirit drew in me its shape;
In me are the Nameless and the secret Name.'
Seemingly strenuous and challenging continual
The debate of Love and Death along the dark
Yet a pleasant stress for the presaged victory
Their war of words battled fiery in spirited field
For Savitri to light her soul in Satyavan
'Death from the incredulous Darkness sent its cry: '..
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Tokens
Green mwold on zummer bars do show
That they've a-dripped in winter wet;
The hoof-worn ring o' groun' below
The tree do tell o' storms or het;
The trees in rank along a ledge
Do show where woonce did bloom a hedge;
An' where the vurrow-marks do stripe
The down the wheat woonce rustled ripe.
Each mark ov things a-gone vrom view—
To eyezight's woone, to soulzight two.
The grass agean the mwoldren door
'S a token sad o' vo'k a-gone,
An' where the house, bwoth wall an' vloor,
'S a-lost, the well mid linger on.
What tokens, then, could Meary gi'e
That she a-lived, an' lived vor me,
But things a-done vor thought an' view?
Good things that nwone agean can do,
An' every work her love ha' wrought,
To eyezight's woone, but two to thought.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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Yellow Man
Very far away in a foreign land
Live the yellow woman and the yellow man
Hes been around for many-a-year
They say they were there before we were here
Eatin rice all day
While the children play
You see he believes
In the family
Just like you and me
Oh, yellow man, oh, yellow man
We understand, you know we understand
He keeps his money tight in his hand
With his yellow woman hes a yellow man
Got to have a yellow woman
When youre a yellow man
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tokens
Green mwold on zummer bars do show
That they've a-dripped in winter wet;
The hoof-worn ring o' groun' below
The tree do tell o' storms or het;
The trees in rank along a ledge
Do show where woonce did bloom a hedge;
An' where the vurrow-marks do stripe
The down the wheat woonce rustled ripe.
Each mark ov things a-gone vrom view—
To eyezight's woone, to soulzight two.
The grass agean the mwoldren door
'S a token sad o' vo'k a-gone,
An' where the house, bwoth wall an' vloor,
'S a-lost, the well mid linger on.
What tokens, then, could Meary gi'e
That she a-lived, an' lived vor me,
But things a-done vor thought an' view?
Good things that nwone agean can do,
An' every work her love ha' wrought,
To eyezight's woone, but two to thought.
poem by William Barnes
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The Life of a Flower
As the snow melts with upmost intensity
Out of the white field under the blues sky a green spot rises
The rise of a legacy of a summer, a legacy of blooms
The sun rises and white is no more
White once now is green, green signs of life
Life that will live for a summer time, summer that never ends
From green to yellow, yellow that perfects the view
View out of sight, so far away you can see the Earth curves
From yellow that blinds the eyes to cloudy skies
Now is time again, say good bye till summer comes back
From brown, the name of a legacy that lasted a life time
Brown surrenders to white, so smooth takes it by force
And Earth sleeps again under the white blanket
Forever and ever life lives and dies
Perfection is all.
Our Little House
Our little house upon the hill
In winter time is strangely still;
The roof tree, bare of leaves, stands high,
A candelabrum for the sky,
And down below the lamplights glow,
And ours makes answer o'er the snow.
Our little house upon the hill
In summer time strange voices fill;
With ceaseless rustle of the leaves,
And birds that twitter in the eaves,
And all the vines entangled so
The village lights no longer show.
Our little house upon the hill
Is just the house of Jack and Jill,
And whether showing or unseen,
Hid behind its leafy screen;
There's a star that points it out
When the lamp lights are in doubt.
poem by Thomas Walsh
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Gradually, It Happens
gradually we like how dead things rise from their ashes
managing to take a shape like the neck of the heron
the white long neck of the heron
amidst the green rice fields just below a crumple of blue clouds
and then the sun slowly rises from the hills that look like
breasts of a woman just awaking from a very deep sleep
beside her lover who is too drunk from the many jugs
of happy moments which he drank....
last night, it was raining so hard
but they never noticed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im On Fire For You Baby
(david elliott)
Published by polygram international - ascap
This empty space Ive held so long
You come around, and now Im warm
I thought that I was havin fun
And now I see the way its done
I thought wed led a life before
And who we were, well Im not sure
But one thing I know is right
I loved you then, Im gonna love you tonight
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
So dont take your time, its gettin late
We might lose if we hesitate
Cause bein free is lots of fun
For me, though Im just 21
I got things to do, and things to see
Might even have to leave you be
But till that time, lets give our all
And dont look back, until you fall
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
Itd be a shame, if our games, were doin us
With all the time spent on tryin, then to lose your lovin
So come on girl, well raise the sky
Well break on through, well get so high
And dont worry about tomorrows world
The time is now, I need you girl
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
Im on fire for you baby, fire for you woman, all night
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guardians of Morality
GUARDIANS OF MORALITY
No nude! Low, lewd!
Prude Whitehouse, pursue it!
So crude show blue
shrewd Lord Longford, sue it!
Their attitude,
scare papers renew it,
bare fat eschew
where e’er they review it!
In modern mood,
sin, while men pooh-pooh it, -
to films, reviews, glued,
grin, smile when they view it!
27 November 1977
robi03_0143_robi03_0000 XXX_JMX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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